The Powers That Be Affair
by MLaw
Summary: Napoleon and Illya are relaxing with some down time after an assignment finishes up early, but a chance encounter with a Thrush femme fatale leads to   something very unexpected.   A pre-saga story.
1. Chapter 1

**_"No one can tell when two people walk closely together what unconscious communication one mind may have with another."_**

_~**Robert Barr**_

.

**"The Powers That Be Affair"**

.

"Together they're unstoppable, separately they are simply a brother and sister with gifted psychic abilities," Dr. Schiller of Thrush announced to his guest observers from Central.

They stood above in a small gallery, watching a young blond boy and girl, no more than ten years of age as they stood innocently together. There was thin blond-haired man seated in front of them, handcuffed to a metal chair.

"A captured U.N.C.L.E. agent," Schiller said, "a perfect test subject as their minds are strong and are conditioned to resist mental manipulation."

Schiller flicked the switch to the intercom in front of him, speaking to the children.

"Nu bøm, vil jeg geme dig til at gøre manden bange, få ham til et skrige et i frygt."

They obeyed his instructions, joining hands and concentrating on the man, boring deep into his mind with their thoughts until his eyes went wide in fear as he screamed.

"Neeeej_nooooo," he moaned, "stop kan du gøre det stoppe_please stop, please make it stop?" He cried out desperately in Danish before he passed out."

"So they can inflict pain?"

"Yes,"Schiller said, " but they must be within close proximity to the subject and physically joined in order to do it."

"So they can inflict pain with their minds, big deal. I have some very good specialists who can do the same things with their hands." Another observer said.

"Ah but your torturers cannot do this?" Schiller smiled as he turned on the intercom again, as the door below opened. An man dressed in a lab coat entered, waking up the U.N.C.L.E. agent with a few slaps to the face. He removed the cuffs from the man's hands, freeing him then placed a pistol on the table in front of him.

The agent grabbed it immediately, pointing it towards the man in the smock. "Let me out or I will use this!"

"Børn_children?" Schiller said calmly,"tell the man with the gun to kill himself please?"

The boy and girl stared at him, their pupils nearly disappearing as their eyes rolled back.

The agent suddenly grabbed his head, his eyes going blank as he raised the pistol to his temple and fired. BANG!

"Tak børn_thank you children. See gentlemen and Madamosielle, quite effective aren't they?"

"Another demonstration bitte?" The sole woman in the group, a handsome platinum blond asked. "Can they pick up on non-verbal commands?"

"They must be strong thoughts," he answered, and of course they must be in Danish."

"Gut_good. Then tell them without speaking the command for...your lab technician to kill himself as well," she smiled wickedly.

"My technician?" Schiller swallowed nervously.

"Is there a problem with that Herr Schiller?" One of the observers asked.

"No no of course not." He turned again. I am not sure though that the distance to the the children may be too far for them to pick up my thoughts?"

"Try," the woman ordered.

Schiller looked down at the boy and girl, saying nothing. He placed his finger tips to his temples as he concentrated, trying to send his thoughts to them.

After a moment, they turned their heads in unison facing the technician while their hands remained joined.

The man stiffened, his eyes going blank as he knelt down, retrieving the pistol from the floor where it had fallen from the dead agent's hand. Then he stood, holding the pistol to his temple and slowly putting pressure on the trigger with his finger.

"Stop," the woman ordered. And they watched as seconds later the man lowered the weapon, placing it on the table.

"And their obedience? "Angelique asked.

"Unquestionable." Schiller. "They have been conditioned to completely obey my commands."

"Your commands?"

"No of course not, I did not mean to imply I was the only one who could give them orders. They have had code words embedded in their subconscious. When they hear the passwords they become to completely compliant to the person who uttered them."

"So if they are given a command to control someone else's thoughts and actions against that person's will, they are able to maintain that control?"

"Absolutely. They will not stop until they are given the code word to do so." Schiller smiled."If the try, it will result in terrible pain."

"Excellent" the observers all agreed, smiling as to the endless possibilities that the power these children possessed now offered.

.

Napoleon Solo and his partner had completed their assignment in Denmark earlier than expected and were enjoying a day's relaxation at a small café just inside the arched entrance of the Tivoli Gardens in downtown Copenhagen, not far from the Rådgysoasden_town hall.

They were staying at the Nimb Hotel located in an historic building in the gardens, its architecture having been modelled after a Moorish-inspired historical style, with its tall central dome over the entrance and minaret-like spires as part of the facade.

Illya complained as usual, though the accommodations were a much higher standard than what they were accustomed to, saying," U.N.C.L.E. still could not see their way fit to letting them have separate beds, much less separate rooms for that matter."

It was not that he wasn't amenable to sleeping in the same bed with his partner, as he was quite accustomed to it after all this time, but having one's own bed just made for a more restful, private sleep.

Separate rooms would have been ideal, as Napoleon had a habit of finding female companionship at the drop of a hat, which usually left his partner literally out in the cold for most of the evening. Sometimes that wore thin on the Russian, but most of the time he was very forgiving of his friend's wandering eye.

They had ordered lunch for themselves, for Napoleon... Frikadeller and Rugbrød, .a sort of meatballs and rye bread served with sour cucumbers and for the Russian and his boundless appetite, a Smørrebrød, an open-faced sandwich on dark rye bread with breaded fish, salad, cucumber, shrimp, caviar and tomato. It was stacked like it was the leaning tower of Pisa, making Illya smile with satisfaction when it arrived.

"I swear you'd eat a horse if it was put in front of you." Napoleon laughed, looking at the size of the sandwich.

"Oh it is quite tasty, slightly sweet, low in fat, tender and high in protein. " Illya smiled.

That thought turned Napoleon's stomach a little and left him suddenly picking at his Frikadeller, making him wonder what they were made from.

Illya seemed to be eating quite happily, washing down his meal with a Pilsner beer when he noticed something had suddenly gotten his partner's attention, "What?" he whispered.

"Don't turn around just yet, but we have company. I just spotted Angelique."

"Hmm, wonder what she is doing here?"the Russian asked softly. I assume that you will want me to make myself invisible?"

Napoleon's look gave him his answer, and Illya rose, plate and beer mug in hand moving to a table to out of view behind a large planter filled with bushy greenery.

"Excuse me Madamosielle?" Napoleon called out to her, his familiar voice getting her attention immediately.

"Napoleon?" she purred, masking her suspicion, " and what brings you here darling?"

"Oh just a little down time between assignments, and you?"

"Oh just involved in some thoughts and a bit of soul-searching if you want. And where is that insufferable partner of yours? You two are practically joined at the hip. I swear, one might even think you were lovers if I didn't know you better Napoleon Solo."

"Yes you do know me quite _well_ don't you?" he smiled.'Would you care to join me for a drink?"

"I never thought you would ask."

Napoleon stood, holding the chair for her as he snapped his fingers for the waiter, ordering _hyldeblomstsaft_- an elderberry cordial for the both of them.

"So, thoughts and soul searching. That doesn't sound very Thrush-like. Anything wrong that I help you with?" he said seductively.

She sighed deeply. " I don't know. It's something of a rather personal nature."

"Angelique I think having shared your bed both on and off duty qualifies me in that area."

"I suppose darling."

The drinks arrived and Napoleon raised his glass to her.

"Well here's to sharing." he smiled at her.

Angelique raised her glass to him, then tipped the sweet cordial to her lips.

Illya had finished noshing and watched Napoleon as he worked his usual magic on the woman. He still detested the relationship that he had with Angelique, feeling that it was wrong to sleep with the enemy outside of an assignment situation.

But that was really Napoleon's business, and as long as it did not interfere with their missions, then so be it. Although there were times his partner's rendezvous with this blond bird had cut things a bit close, with Napoleon having to rescue him from a few precarious situations at the eleventh hour; some of which were orchestrated by Angelique herself.

Illya just did not like or trust her and he made sure that she always knew that. He watched with just a bit of trepidation as his partner rose from the table, disappearing with Angelique.


	2. Chapter 2

"You know darling it actually is quite nice that I ran into you, I suppose you could really help me after all? I would like to think that I could look upon this as rather serendipitous."Angelique said as she joined her arm with his while walking towards the front gate.

"Serendipitous?" He smiled, "interesting choice of words."

"Why don't you believe in the _power_ of fate, dearest. We have a connection you and I."

"Oh I know _where_ we're usually connected."

"Napoleon? Here I am trying to talk to you about something serious and you have to make a sexual innuendo? She stuck out her lower lip, simpering like a wounded child.

"I'm listening," Napoleon said with all sincerity as they approached a taxi parked outside on the street in front of the arched Tivoli gate with its Danish flag fluttering from a pole at the top.

"Mmm yes, you _will_ be." Angelique she whispered as she leaned into him, planting a sensuous kiss on his lips to which he responded eagerly. But as he did, Napoleon felt a tiny prick on the back of his neck as she stroked his skin with her hand.

He let out an unhappy moan, the seconds later his eyes then rolled back in his head and he fell face first onto rear seat of the taxi. Angelique lifted his legs, giving him a shove to get the rest of him inside before closing the door.

"Too much Elderberry cordial,"she said to the driver facetiously, then directed him to take them to one of the industrial districts along the waterfront "To _Havenstaden_," the site of a now defunct soy-cake factory located south of the blue collar neighborhoods on Islands Brygge.

.

When Napoleon woke, he found himself strapped into a metal chair in what seemed to be a sterile empty room. The walls were grey, but not like the ones in headquarters, this was a dull,drab and almost cheerless shade. One that could make a person depressed. He looked up, seeing there was a gallery above him and assumed he'd have company soon.

"Son of a bi..." he stopped himself when he suddenly realized he was not alone in the room.

Seated across from him in the shadows looking very wide-eyed and innocent were a young boy and girl, he guessed their ages to be around ten. Both blond and by their facial features, it was obvious they were siblings, maybe twins. He couldn't for the life of him figure out how he hadn't seem them immediately, and let out a sigh as he felt a sharp pain in his head, what felt like the beginnings of a migraine.

"Hello there," he smiled " and who might you be?" Then he remembered he was in Denmark, or at least that's where he hoped he still was. One never knew with Angelique. He chastised himself for falling into her spider's web, _again._

"Hed mit naven er Napoleon. Hvad er jeres navne." He introduced himself, asking the children their names.

"Mit navn er Grete," she said.

"Mit navn er Gunner," answered her brother.

"And why are you here Grete and Gunner?" He asked them, still speaking in Danish, modulating his voice to a gentle tone in order not to frighten them.

"Our Aunt said that you were going to help us." Grete said.

Solo raised his eyebrows, "Really, and who might your Aunt be?"

"Angelique, your adversary and lover." Gunner said.

"That was a rather mature observation on the part of a child?" he thought."She told you that?"

"No we saw it in your mind." Grete said innocently. " We can look into anyone's head. It is easy."

He was surprised at her answer. "Didn't anyone ever tell you that it's not polite to eaves drop?" he chided.

"Læger Schiller siger, det er i orden at_Dr. Schiller says it is alright to do it."They said in unison. Napoleon suddenly jerked in the chair; startled when realizing he heard the words but the children's mouths weren't moving.

Grete and Gunner laughed at his confusion, then spoke to him again as if they were ordering him, again speaking together as if they were a single person.

"You are to take us to U.N.C.L.E headquarters in New York and there you will bring us to see Alexander Waverly. It is important that we go there with you and only you for our safety and the safety of U.N.C.L.E."

Napoleon felt a wicked pain in his skull as if someone were stabbing him He struggled fruitlessly in the chair. "No, he moaned, thinking something wasn't right with that request."no I can't...can't do... this isn't real."

Angelique and Dr. Schiller were watching the scene unfold from above in the observation room. "He is very strong willed this one, even with his U.N.C.L.E. conditioning."

"Yes I know, " she smiled. "but he will be perfect. Use more of the drug I injected him with, as it will decrease his inhibitions. Then once his guard has been lowered, the children will be able to plant the thoughts we want into his mind. Then we can proceed as planned. Now continue Herr Doctor, we must make this work quickly, otherwise _that_ partner of his will suspect something and come looking for him."

"How did you find another U.N.C.L.E. agent so quickly?"

"It was purely by accident," she laughed, " I was walking through the Tivoli and he just called to me, it was as simple as that. Though Napoleon and I do have a rather intimate and interesting past, shall we say."

"I see, and how long do those intimate moments with Mr. Solo usually last? Not to be rude, but I need to know how much time I have for the children to work on him."

Angelique laughed. "We will have until the evening."

"Good, that should be sufficient time for the children to break him.

.

Illya Kuryakin went off on his own, wandering through the cobblestone streets of the nearby shopping district in search of a local bookseller with his usual, avid determination.

He was bothered that Napoleon was off with Angelique, but could do nothing to stop it. He supposed he could have followed them to assuage his concerns, but then his partner was certainly capable of making his own decisions and knew what he was doing. Though he worried that when it came to this particular woman; he might be suffering from a sort of addiction to her, and might not be able to control himself. Napoleon was a man possessed with a voracious sexual appetite, and perhaps at the moment his hunger needed to be sated by one equal to himself in that regard.

Angelique had those same insatiable desires. He supposed it was a shame that they were on opposite sides, not that he wanted that dyed platinum blond replacing him as Napoleon's partner but she not being Thrush would have really made life easier. But no matter how he tried to rationalise these liaisons; he still found himself met with the incongruities of it all.

His way of coping with it this time, was to go shopping for books, one of his own personal obsessions, just as Napoleon had his. Though his desires for reading material did not put himself in danger nor his partner, as Napoleon's inclinations did at times.

He found a dealer just a short distance from the park, and stepped inside among the countless number of volumes, sighing happily. There was his first love, his friends. Books had saved him both physically and mentally all his life. And he remembered back to the winter where he lay hidden among the ruins of Kyiv as a child. Venturing out of his secret place to find food for his body and his mind as well. He would raid the remnants of the great homes of the city bringing back stacks of volumes to read and then burn for warmth against the harsh Russian winter. He devoured books by the great writers such as Tolstoy and Chekov, books on science, mathematics, languages and even skazka_fairy tales.*

He poured over the the titles in the store, telling himself that his limit was only two. He had to keep his habit in check, and besides books could be quite dearly priced. Of course Napoleon would call that being _cheap a_nd these were something that had to be paid for out of his own pocket money and not put on an expense account. No, he was being _frugal, _there is a difference.

Several hours later, Illya headed back to the Tivoli carrying the two books he had selected.

"It was too lovely a day to waste in a hotel room," he thought, assuming that was where his partner was, but then he supposed the concept of _waste _was debatable. He and Napoleon had very different views on how to pass the time of day.

Illya found himself in the botanical gardens, wandering among the placid fountains and beds of purple and white tulips, where he decided to sit on a bench and read one of the books. _Kinetic Molecular Theory, _just the right thing to get his mind off his partner's antics.

He pulled his tinted reading glasses from his pocket, putting them on to rest at a comfortable spot on he bridge of his nose, and that was when he heard the screams. Illya slammed the book closed, drawing his Walther-P38, but keeping it low and out of sight as he rose from the bench like a cat, walking with a smooth determination as he headed towards the sounds of distress. Then there was another scream, followed by another, making him pick up his pace.

Illya stopped dead in his tracks, laughing to himself...he had forgotten about the amusement park within the Tivoli, and watched as panicked riders on the roller coaster, seated in their line of cars as they reached the pinnacle of a rise on the tracks and just as they went forward over the top, quickly descending, they let our more desperate screams.

This coaster had plenty of loops and dips, and this group of passengers were sure to be hoarse by the end of their journey.

He walked away, musing to himself then stopped at a tavern, grabbing another Pilsner to quench his thirst, then he wandered out over to a carousel and watched with a shy smile as the little ones...toddlers were set on the brightly painted horses, held by their parents as they moved around, up and down up and down...up and down.

"Chyort." His stomach felt queezy and he suddenly remembered the first time he'd ever been seasick. It was on a carousel, not as nice as this one but one that was part of a troupe of entertainers who had camped outside of Kyiv. The paint was faded and chipped and only a few of the horses bobbed up and down, and the music that played was off key. But to a young child such as himself, it was magical... until he got sick of course.

It was an unpleasant memory but at the same time a pleasant one, as he could at least envision his mother's beautiful face, with her blue eyes and long blond hair. And remembered her holding him and stroking his brow as she comforted him after he'd gotten sick.

He looked around the gardens again and sighed. It was a shame they had only one the day, not much time to do sightseeing that would make it worthwhile. And now he had essentially run out of things to do, this he was not accustomed to, having nothing to do and it unsettled him just a bit, or was it watching the carousel that had done it? Or was he just worrying about his partner?

.

ref * "Beginnings"


	3. Chapter 3

The sun would be setting soon and Illya decided to take a chance heading back to the hotel, hoping that his partner had gone off someplace else for once, and was not to _their_ room with that..."what was the point?" he asked himself. "All the name calling in the world would not make Angelique go away. The woman just thinks too highly of herself."

Luckily he hadn't far to go as the Hotel Nimb where they were staying the night was within the Tivoli proper as well.

Illya smiled for a moment, as he thought about just walking in on them if they were there, just as Napoleon had done on he and Anucis Sakr in Egypt, that was a... few years ago, he suddenly realized. Though he did not show it at the time; he was rather annoyed at having his love-making to a stunning woman interrupted by his partner. But it was after all accidental, so if he did it tonight, it really just would seem petty on his part, getting even with Napoleon for a faux pas that was made by him a few years ago.

"Had it been years already?" he asked himself. He'd never heard from Anucis again and had been unable to find her. She simply made herself disappear, and in the Middle East that really was not a difficult feat. He did not know if he had a child out there with her somewhere, and had not thought of that fact for a long time.*

The words of Nehru popped into his head for some reason. "Time is not measured in the passing of years, but by what one does, by what one feels and by what one achieves." At least some of that held true for him as he may or may not have fathered a child with Anucis, he and Napoleon achieved saving the world several times over. But as to what he felt...that was something that was not of importance, certain things needed to pe put aside in his line of work, and emotions were one of them.

Illya shook himself free of these thoughts as he knocked on the door, giving his usual code, but then received no response. He unlocked it, opening up slowly, with his Walther drawn as a precaution but then he found the room blessedly empty. It looked as though Napoleon had not even been there.

It was dark now as he tossed his Theory book on the bed then took out the other one he had purchased from its brown paper wrapping. Of all things to have found in Denmark, a copy of _The Dictionary of American Slang and Idioms,_ it had been published a few years ago but was still recent and relevant enough for his purposes.

No matter how Illya tried, he often found himself at a loss with the colloquial phrases that his partner would throw at him so non-chalantly. And for a few moments his misunderstanding of the words Napoleon uttered would usually result in a hurried and sometimes annoyed explanation from him, and his partner often seemed exasperated at his confusion and sometimes think that his misunderstanding was some sort of ruse on his part.

"Perhaps this _tome_ will help alleviate those problems." he thought.

Illya looked at his wristwatch, seeing that it was nearly seven and deciding not to wait on his partner; he ordered room service for himself. Feeling it was better not to settle in quite yet, at least not until Napoleon returned from his carnal _explorations_. Past experience told him that it would be a while before his partner would be back.

He was grateful that at least Napoleon would not spend the night with Angelique, though he would be gone for five or six hours. Solo knew that an entire night would be too nerve-wracking on his partner. And of course if he were using their shared hotel accommodations, that left Illya out on his own. He never left him out in the cold all night.

"_Thank goodness for small favors, _" he repeated after finding that in the dictionary, "meaning to be thankful when something good has resulted from a bad situation. "Hmmm? I hope this is not going to turn into something bad?""

He rang room service, ordering a bowl of asparagus soup, Æbelflæst-pork slices with apple-onion and bacon compote, brussel sprouts and potatoes au gratin. A hearty enough meal even to satisfy his appetite, so he passed on a dessert and and any alcohol.

After finishing his supper with a sigh of satisfaction, he sat on the bed continuing to read though the dictionary. He discovered a fair amount of American colloquialisms had their root in the Irish language. Perhaps that was why he did not _get them,_ as Gaelic was not a language he was familiar with.

Given the magnitude of emigrants from that island, one of the largest groups to come to the shores of the United States back in the mid-eighteen hundreds, there was bound to be a linguistic influence on the American English vernacular, as there were from other a large and varied number of peoples coming from all across Europe to settle in the United States.

The phrase _shanty town_ that Napoleon had used to describe a decrepit place they had stayed in once, actually came from the Gaelic words _sean tí _meaning old house, and another word that his partner had used to describe the amount breakage had they caused after having invaded a glass-blowing factory in Italy was _smithereens _again from the Gaelic _smidirini, _meaning _a_ _lot of little pieces._

As Illya found these examples fascinating enough that he resolved to add that language to his list of those he still wished to learn, thought it already was a rather lengthy one. Thought he had a feeling he would not have much use for it but he liked learning new things anyway, regardless of necessity.

Illya was quite pleased with this purchase, and placed it on the night stand when he heard his partner's coded knock on the door, followed the turning of the key in the lock.

Though it was the proper code, Illya rested his hand on his U.N.C.L.E. special just in case.

"Hi there," Napoleon smiled as he peeked around the door at him. " Ugh, I have some company with me?"

Illya pulled his Walther, not sure if that was for the better or worse, but decided to err on the side of caution.

"_Angelique?_ If you think I am giving up my sleeping in this bed my friend, you are sorely mistaken. You can go get another room to fu..."

"Hey watch your language, I _said_ we have company." Napoleon chided.

Two innocent looking blond children around the age of nine or ten, Illya guessed, walked into their hotel room. Looking at him with big, sad saucer eyes.

"Illya I'd like you to meet Grete and Gunner...they're Angelique's niece and nephew. She asked for them to be given asylum with U.N.C.L.E. as she's afraid Thrush is looking to get their hands on them."

Illya tucked his weapon back into his shoulder holster as he stood up from the bed." Why would she want to do that? She does not strike me as the _family type? _And what do they have that Thrush would want?"

"Down boy, she's worried for their safety and she's concerned Thrush will exploit them for their powers."

"_Powers_?"

"Yes, psychic abilities. They're sensitive to things beyond the natural range of perception."

"I know what psychic powers are. So are you saying they can read minds?

"Precisely."

"Napoleon, though I am familiar with such things from the _gypsy _point of view, and know that some _sensitivity _exists; I do not believe in such mumbo jumbo as being able to truly read minds. At least to the extent that Thrush would have an interest in two children?"

Illya approached Grete, looking to see if she had any sort of comb or clip in her hair, remembering the Thrush attempt to pass off a young woman with being psychic in _The Bat Cave Affair..._it was for the most part a hoax. Being a realist, he still had his doubts about that innocent's abilities.

"Nope no hair clip if that's what you are looking for, they're legit." Napoleon said. ""Grete det er_Grete this is...'

She cut him off, speaking in Danish. "Illya Kuryakin, your friend is from a the Soviet Union, Kiev. I see great sorrow and death in his past...and he's afraid of," she paused, "dogs. Dogs that came at you on the streets as a child, tearing at your..."

"Tnat er nok_that is enough!" Illya snapped. Obviously the girl had struck a chord with him. "Those are facts that could have been researched, though some not easily. Tell me what am I thinking right now?" Illya demanded.

He watched as Grete joined hands with Gunner." You are thinking that you should have ordered dessert with your dinner as you are now craving something sweet. " The two children said word for word in unison.

Illya was taken back, as that was not the thought he was concentrating on but still that was one of his thoughts. He looked at Napoleon in dismay.

"Alright, supposing they are legitimate, what are you going to do with them?" Then he rubbed his temple, suddenly feeling the hint of a migraine coming on.

"Take them to New York of course. Waverly will want to meet them and decide what to do with them. It's not exactly like they're encoded documents that can be squirreled away in File 40?"

Illya shrugged at that, distracted as he rubbed his temple again as the headache was becoming stronger. "So they are staying here then?" he asked.

"Yep, let them have the bed and you and I can..."

"Can call to see if the management can provide us with a couple of cots," Illya finished the sentence for him, "as I do not relish the idea of sleeping on the floor, " the Russian huffed.

"See, now there you go, how did you know I was going to say that?" Napoleon smiled.

"No," said Gunner, "you were thinking you would rather us have the cots and _you_ would take the bed."

"Do not do that, " Illya warned, pointing his finger at the boy and feeling very irritated because of his sudden headache. "If you are truly gifted, then you should know that it is not polite...to read the private thoughts of a person without their permission." Again he felt a sharp stab of pain in his head.


	4. Chapter 4

Illya slept fitfully that night, laying uncomfortably on the cot that the hotel had brought up for him. His head was pounding, in spite of the fact that he had succumbed to taking a few aspirin tablets.

He felt strange pressure in his head, and felt as if there were voices speaking to him, inaudible yet presentand he wondered if the children were doing something to him, if that was at all possible?

His Uncle Vanya had told him as they sat by the fire in the gypsy encampment in Bykivnia forest when he was a but a child that he too possessed a bit of the _gift._ not that he could read another's thoughts but he did seem to have this sixth sense when it came to so many situations that he and Napoleon had been in. Or was it just the instincts of a highly trained agent, and some feelings of paranoia?

Yet it was as if these children were trying to gain entrance to his subconscious, and if he had to describe the discomfort he was feeling, then it was like sharp nails constantly scratching on a door, getting louder and louder.

It would stand to reason that they were up to no good, especially since they were purported to be Angelique La Chen's niece and nephew Any thing having to do with her had to be bad news and the word _trust _did not even enter his vocabulary when it came to dealing with her.

Perhaps in the morning he would contact headquarters and see if there was anything in her file about Angelique having siblings with children. If she did, then that at least would assuage some of his concerns.

He was surprised at Napoleon's willingness to accept the legitimacy of the whole situation and wondered if he had finally gone too far in investing his feelings for Angelique and thereby affecting his ability to make an unbiased judgement.

Illya suppressed a moan, feeling another stab of pain in his head as he glanced over at the brother and sister laying seemingly innocent, asleep in the bed.

He had no clue that they were pretending to be asleep and were conversing with each other without saying a single word, communicating telepathically. "Denne ene er stærk søster_this one is strong, sister." said Gunner.

"Holde på ham, vi har vores instruktioner_keep at him," the sister said," we have our instructions. She reached out barely moving, touching her fingers to her brother's hand as she concentrated on breaking through with her brother into Illya Kuryakin's mind.

Illya closed his eyes trying to relax, willing himself to forget the pain in his head and to fall asleep. He and done this before, and could do it again. It was a matter of mind over matter. He used relaxation techniques, starting at his feet and working his way up his body, concentrating on different muscle groups. By the time he had reached his shoulders he was finally asleep.

_Illya found himself walking through a deep dark forest, Bykivnia...he recognized it. He was home, and everything looked so big. A wolf howled in the distance, then its call was answered by another as he continued onwards. He jumped at the sound of the screeching cry of a snow owl coming from above him in the tall trees. Then he heard it, something else, a voice calling to him. It was soft and beautiful and felt welcoming._

"_Illuyshenka. Illuyshenka gde ty. Prikodite ko mne. Yak odinok bez tebya _ where are you. Come to me. I am lonely without you."_

"_Ya na vizhu tebya_I cannot see you." he called to her._

"_I am here." He felt someone touch his shoulder, then as he turned to see who it was, he had the fright of his life. It was a boney hand attached to a boney arm that belonged a tall boney woman with long wild grey hair. She was dressed in a tattered gown with a long woolen cape._

"_Ahahahahahah!" A hideous old woman, with a skeletal, wart covered face that was red, as if it had been burned, laughed and him and he could see her teeth looking like the iron from the tongs from a fireplace and reached for him with her long sharp claws._

_She was riding her giant mortar and pestle, cackling at him and snapping her sharp iron teeth at him. He knew it was the Baba Yar, the evil witch who roams the forest chasing after little Russian children to eat them!_

_She cackled again as she reached for him, but Illya was frozen where he stood. He ducked as he grabbed at him, then finally found his feet and ran._

_He looked back, seeing her coming after him, followed by her house. It was a thatched cottage running on hens legs and and it's railings were tall sticks with the heads of skeletons on top, each with read glowing eyes._

_He remembered crying out as he ran into the woods, but the witch's face jumped out at him from evey shadow screaming at him. _

"_Ya yem plokhie mal'chiki, kak ty_ I eat bad little boys like you!"_

_No matter which way he ran, he could not escape that horrible face with the snapping iron he felt a sharp stab as one of her sharp nails caught him on his arm. But he wouldn't cry out. _

_Then he heard voices, childrens voices calling to him. "Illya you must hide now, hide in the shadows and do not come out untill we call you. Hide and be safe. The Baba Yaga will not get you if you stay hidden. Do no come out unless we call you, do not come out unless we call you._

_Ne vyidet, yesli my posvanim vam_ do not come out unless we call you." The children's voices repeated it over and over._

_Then he heard a man's voice, a familiar voice calling him. It echoed in the distance and he felt compelled to go to it. "Illya?"_

"_Do not go Illuyshenka. It is a trick. Do-not-go! " The children ordered him. But he would not listen._

.

The next morning Napoleon had trouble rousing his partner. At first he called his name, using only verbal attempts to wake him, then he dared to touch the Russian, which would have normally ended in gun being shoved under his chin. He'd seen Illya do that without waking up fully and even opening his eyes, as his survival instincts would kick in as an automatic reflex.

But not this time as Illya only moaned, barely stirring when his partner touched him.

"Hey buddy you okay? You feeling alright?"

"Noooo, please lower your voice, " he finally whispered, " I have a terrible migraine. Could you possibly close the drapes please, the light is really hurting my eyes." He looked down at his sheet, seeing a small dot of blood on it wondering where that had come from, then found a small bruise and what looked like a puncture on his arm.

Napoleon complied without another word, knowing his friend got these terrible headaches sometimes, but that was usually after being injected with some sort of Thrush chemical cocktail?"

Illya tried sitting up in on the cot, but when doing so he went completely pale, then made a mad dash for the bathroom, as he was going to be ill.

Napoleon followed his partner and held him by the shoulder as he _prayed to the porcelain god. _

"You weren't kidding when you said you had migraine." he said as he gave the Russian an arm up to the sink, trying to remember the last time a headache had made him this sick.

Illya rinsed out his mouth, splashed some cold water on his face then whispered to his partner."Napoleon, I have a feeling this is from something those children are doing."

"Wait a minute, you practically said that you didn't believe in such things and now you're trying to blame your headache on two innocents?" Napoleon uncharacteristically raised his voice. "Shame on you, picking on a pair of poor defenseless kids. You're really getting a bit out of control with your paranoia aren't you?"

Illya kept his mouth shut rather than lash back. "_Excuse me, _if you do not mind, I need to use the facilities?" He said shoving Napoleon out the bathroom door and locking it after him.

.

Three hours later they were on a direct flight from Copenhagen International Airport, flying Air Canada to Montreal then they would take what Napoleon liked to call a _puddle jumper..._a two prop Martin 404 for the last leg of their journey to New York.

Napoleon sat with the two children on either side of him, as Illya had given up his seat and moved to the rear of the plane, the farther away he got from those children, oddly enough the more his headache lessened; convincing him all the more that something was going on with them.

The children placed their hands on top of Napoleon's as they lay on the arm rests, driving their instructions deeper into his subconscious mind.

"You will take us immediately to your headquarters and to Alexander Waverly's office. And when we arrive there you will take out your gun and shoot him between the eyes, then you will use your gun on yourself."

Napoleon's eyes glazed over and those words repeated over and over in his head. Then as the stewardess dressed in her green and white uniform skirt, jacket and cap stopped to speak to him.

"Sir can I get you a drink?" She smiled charmingly at him.

His eyes refocused as the children released his hands. "Yes," he answered flatly, with almost no soul to his voice," Umm, how about milk for the children and you know, I'll take one too." he said feeling strangely that he was suddenly craving milk instead of his usual scotch...he didn't even like milk.

Illya was sitting a few rows back and was now miraculously free of his headache once he was no longer near the children, adding fuel to the fire of his suspicions. He watched as the stewardess went past him, then returned a few minutes later, heading back towards his partner and the children carrying a tray with three glasses of milk balanced on it.

"Milk? Napoleon hates milk," he said to himself. "Something is very odd here?" Illya got up from his seat, heading towards the washroom and once locked inside, he pulled out his communicator."Open channel-D overseas relay and scramble."

.

The plane landed on time at Kennedy Airport and as Illya had arranged, an U. N.C.L.E. limo met them there at curbside.

"This was rather nice of you to arrange, considering you don't like these kids." Napoleon said to them. " Now as soon as we arrive, I'd like to take them right up to the Old Man to meet them."

"I never said I disliked them."

"Oh I think you do, as a matter of fact I think you hate them...accusing them way you did. I think your paranoia has gotten out of control."

That was the last red flag that Illya needed. Headquarters had informed him that Angelique had no family, so these children were obviously some sort of plant. Whether their so-called abilities were real or technologically enhanced, remained to be seen.

How Napoleon had been won over so whole-heartedly as to their innocent demeanor was completely out of character for him. If he had been affected by some sort of Thrush drug it was one thing, the possibility of these children actually having something to do with it was another, weaker consideration in his mind.

The driver dodged in and out of traffic, getting them to Del Floria's in record time. It was none too soon for the Russian as the headache had returned with a vengeance. They whisked the children down the stairs and into the changing room, then as the secret door opened they guided them inside.

"Welcome back gentlemen," Wanda smiled." And who do we have here?" There was a subtle change to her facial expression as the children were introduced by Napoleon.

Then she pinned on Solo's badge, but seemed to be a little afraid when she had to pin the black visitors badges on the children's coats.

Illya flashed a look at Wanda, as if giving her a signal and she rose from her chair without missing a beat, going directly to Solo and planting a long, wet kiss on his lips.

The children panicked, sensing something was happening.

At that moment the back entrance opened and Illya charged forward shoving Gunner through the door to a waiting member of Section V Security, and just as quickly the door closed behind them.

"Gunner!" Grete let go a blood-curdling scream.

"What the hell are you doing?" Napoleon barked, grabbing Illya by his lapels, slamming him against the wall.


	5. Chapter 5

Grete continued screaming as she pounded on the door, calling her brother's name repeatedly. Wanda tried taking hold of the child but the girl pushed her away then turned to Napoleon, calling out to him in Danish.

"Tag mig til min bror nu_take me to my brother now!" she demanded, then lowered her head, staring upwards ominously with her eyes and concentrating on Solo. But nothing happened, her powers seemed to be useless without her brother.

"Napoleon! Come to your senses?" Illya yelled at him while wriggling out of his grip. He grabbed his partner by the shoulders, shaking him as he spoke firmly to him. "Napoleon, look at me...concentrate-on-_me?"_

Solo pulled himself free, staggering back, hitting against the wall. He lifted his hand to his brow looking completely bewildered. "What's going on? How did we get here?"

"What is the last thing you remember" Illya asked.

Napoleon let go a prolonged sigh. "I was standing next to a taxi with Angelique, she kissed me and then..." He touched his hand to the back of his neck."I remember feeling a pin prick, then that's it."

Illya looked at Grete. "Hvad var du skal gøre her_what were you to do here?"

"Jeg vil have min bror nu!"

"No, you will not be joined with your brother, not yet. Not until you tell us the truth." He spoke to her sharply, not treating her like a child at all.

"Nej," she refused.

"We will see about that." Illya said, snapping his fingers coldly at Wanda, "Call Security?" then remembering his manners, he spoke more politely,"Please Wanda?"

"Thank you Illya." She appreciated that _please,_ as Kuryakin could at times be quite rude. He was so cute though that she forgave him for his personality flaws...sometimes.

Several more Security agents armed with their Specials converted to carbines, arrived to escort Grete to an observation room located next door to where her brother had been taken.

Kuryakin and Solo joined Alexander Waverly in the observation gallery above those rooms, looking down through the glass partition at the children who were sitting wide-eyed, rocking themselves while they sat in their chairs.

"They look like _junkies _in withdrawal," Napoleon whispered.

Illya, guessing from his experiences with his headaches and the proximity of the children that they were at a safe enough distance from the two of them not to be affected by their so called powers.

"And you say you remember nothing Mr. Solo?" Waverly said.

"No sir, my last recollections was a sharp pin prick on the back of my neck."

"Well I think perhaps you should get yourself up to medical just in case."

"I'm feeling fine now Mr. Waverly," Napoleon insisted.

"I don't give a fig how you feel at the moment Mr. Solo, I want medical to check you over, and see what concoction you may have been drugged with. Someone from debrief will be sent up to see if you might have been conditioned in any way. They may be able to recover your missing memories with their brand of hypnotism as such. Now off with you, and no dawdling."

"And the children?" Napoleon asked.

"Will remain separated and under observation."

Napoleon did as ordered, heading directly up to the medical wing to be looked at, though he really didn't see the need for it, other than not being able to remember, a slight headache and being a little woozy, he felt fine. Nothing he couldn't manage.

"Mr. Kuryakin, well done trusting your instincts in regards to these two. Dr. Lazarus will be checking the children out individually in medical once we've observed them for a little longer. See if you can speak to them, perhaps they'll confess to you what they are up to?"

"Yes sir." Illya had his doubts about the children cooperating that easily, but would still try to get them to talk.

Waverly left him alone on the observation deck, leaning against the railing, looking down at the two children.

At that exact moment they looked up at him, staring at him as if they sensed each other's actions. Their movements were identical and were now synchronized in some way.

It was uncanny, and it unnerved Illya enough to make him leave. He decided he would check on Napoleon first. Once his partner had mentioned having been injected with something, he remembered the blood on his bedding that morning. He pulled up his sleeve, looking at the definite sign of a puncture wound.

Though he was not happy about the possibility that the children may have somehow tried to drug him, he realized that he needed to be checked to indeed see if there were something in his system. Perhaps that was part of their power as well, a drug with mind-controlling properties of a sort?

"That would at least made more sense to him than this psychic nonsense. Science indeed made more sense." He rationalized to himself as the elevator slowed to a stop.

He pondered for a moment what was to become of Grete and Gunner. If they indeed possessed such genuine psychic abilities that enabled them to control another mind as they had Napoleon's; then they could never be permitted to be together again. or free for that matter.

He exited as the doors opened silently to the medical wing, finding a flurry of activity.

"What is going on? "he asked the floor nurse.

"It's Mr. Solo, he's having some sort of convulsive seizure Illya."

"Room?"

"Your usual, but you can't go in there."

"Care to bet on that?" He said as he headed down the hall to room number one. He stepped though the door, only to be greeted by the orders of Dr. Walter Lazarus. "Kuryakin, get your ass out of here _now!_"

Illya was only able to get a brief glimpse at Napoleon as he lay writhing while two orderlies held him down in the hospital bed.

The Russian stepped back outside as ordered, leaning unhappily against the wall, folding his arms in a huff until nearly twenty minutes later Lazarus, the head of medical came out into the hallway.

"Illya, he's alright. I had to knock him out though until we find out what triggered this. It's going to take a little bit to get the results of his blood work."

"Der'mo, " he muttered, "May I go in _now_?"

"Yes, but don't try to wake him please."

"Understood." The Russian answered coldly.

Illya walked into the room he had entered so many times before to see his partner when he was on the injured list and recovering. This was _their_ room, containing a pair beds. The two of them were there in medical with such frequency that the nurses thought it better to assign them to the same room time after time. After a while it became comforting in a way.

But now Napoleon lay there looking fine compared to what he usually looked like when confined to a hospital bed. There were no bandages or wounds and he looked quite peaceful. Asleep.

He ignored Lazarus' instructions. "Napoleon, if you can hear me, you need to wake up my friend. I need to know what Angelique and those children have done to you? Please wake up?" he whispered carefully. "You need to _remember_."

Napoleon groaned."Yes, do you hear me my friend? Where are you, come to me?" Illya stopped for a second, realizing he was repeating words from his dream. Was it his dream, or something the children planted in his subconscious? He was feeling a bit bewildered, being torn between the reality, the tangibility of his beloved science and the ethereal, intangibility of the paranormal.

Dr. Lazarus walked in at that moment. "What the devil are you doing Kuryakin? I told you not to try to wake him!" Now get out of here before I call security and have you escorted down to a holding area."

Illya steeled his jaw as he flashed an cold look at the physician. He never liked the man, and at the moment he liked him even less.

"Fine! I am leaving but keep in mind that I am acting CEA and I need to be informed the moment Mr. Solo comes to, as I must speak to him. So now Dr. Lazarus, are _you_ clear on this?" Illya spoke to him with a dismissive attitude, catching the man off guard.

"Why yes," he stuttered, "of course, as soon as he wakes."

"Good." Illya growled, then strode out of the room, leaving Lazaraus a bit bewildered.

He reluctantly returned to the observation room, looking down at the children, wondering what they were up to. Again they gazed at him in unison. But this time he did not let them make him flinch.

"Angelique...hvak gjorde hun gøre for dig_what did she do to you?" he called to them.

"Intet_nothing." they answered together."please, let us be together? We need to be together.

"If I let you see each other, will you tell me what you did to Napoleon?He has become ill."

Grete and Gunner seemed to stared at each other though the wall as they held themselves in their own arms, shaking ever so slightly.

"Yes we will tell you." they answered together, their eyes looking wild.

"Tell me now."

"We talked to his mind...we wanted him to like us so we bound him to us.

He was very kind, not like the others"

"What others?"

"The Doctor and the lady Angelique."

"Did they tell you to do something to Napoleon?"

"Yes."

What did they tell you?"

"We cannot say. We are not permitted to say."

"Why?"

"It will hurt."

"What if I said that you are both safe from the Doctor and the woman Angelique. They can no longer hurt you. Could you tell me then what your instructions are?"

"No, it will still hurt. Now bring us together. You said you would."

"Not until you tell me the truth children"

Both of them let out a chilling scream, so shrill, blood curdling and prolonged that Illya had to walk out of the observation room.

He was frustrated that his questioning had revealed little, other than the fact they had a connected his partner to them psychically. His only recourse was to speak to someone from the psyche department... someone who believed in this sort of paranormal nonsense.

Illya knocked on the door of Lechtanski, then walked into the room as the man called for him to enter. He was uncomfortable any time that he went into this department, as they were forever trying to dissect him mentally, but at this point he felt speaking to the Doctor was the best course of action. And he would have to get over his discomfort for the sake of his partner.

"Good afternoon Mr. Kuryakin, have a seat on the couch. I must say you're a bit early for your mandatory yearly psyche exam?"

"Sorry to get your hopes up Doctor, but I am not and I would rather stand if you do not mind as I am here on official business."

"And why is that? Is there something about this office that you find threatening? Let's talk."

"Dr. Lechtanski, much that I know that you would love to get into my head; I am not here about me. I am here about two children who were sent here by Thrush. They are brother and sister, possibly having strong psychic abilities and are able to control another person's mind."

"They had Mr. Solo apparently under their control very recently. Once this mental link was broken, Mr. Solo convulsed and fell ill. Is this at all possible? Could there be such a link between human beings and strong enough for one to exert control over another? Then breaking that supposed control...could it cause what happened to my partner.?

" Very valid questions Mr. Kuryakin. The mind is a powerful thing, and there are documented cases of strong psychic abilities between siblings, but nothing to the extent that you've described. Although in the case of mental telepathy, the exerting of control over another person's mind is theoretically possible and then removing that control abruptly could be likened to a sort of withdrawal faze."

"These children sound fascinating. Where are they?" Lechtanski then asked.

"In security observation rooms five and six. They have been separated as they seem to be stronger when they have physical contact with each other. We have been observing them from the gallery, keeping a safe distance as they seem to need to be in close proximity to exert their control over their victims."

"Why did they try to control Mr. Solo?" Lechtanski asked.

"The will not tell me, saying it will hurt if they do. I suspect they themselves have been programmed in some way, perhaps a form of conditioning or hypnosis?"

"Yes that would be my conclusion as well. I would like to observe the subjects, Mr. Kuryakin."

"Of course Doctor. I can take you down to Security."

"Excellent," said Lechtanski, "This is very exciting, as I've had very little opportunity to explore the field of parapsychology."

"Doctor, this is a very dangerous situation and not one of your _couch sessions_ with a troubled or depressed U.N.C.L.E. agent. So I suggest you curb your enthusiasm for the moment." Illya said coldly.

Ten minutes later they arrived at observation to find the rooms empty.

"Where are they?" Illya barked at the member of Section V seated at the security desk.

"Mr. Kuryakin, the children fell ill and seemed to be having some sort of seizures. Weirdest thing, they started getting sick exactly at the same time. They were taken up to medical.

"Together?"

"Why yes sir, about twenty minutes ago.


	6. Chapter 6

Illya took off running as fast as the floors in that the corridors would let him manage without slipping, leaving Lechtanski behind and taking the emergency stairs rather than waiting for the elevator. He exited at the medical level door, gasping to catch his breath but finding something very strange. The staff was in a panic, not a medical emergency sort of panic but one of fear bordering on hysteria.

The duty nurse was hiding in a corner behind the desk cowering, wailing for her mother. An orderly laying on the corridor floor was rubbing his arms frantically trying to remove some unseen terror screaming, "Get them off me, get the off me! The other floor nurses could be heard down the hallway screaming some of the rooms on the floor.

Illya ran to Napoleon's room, finding Dr. Lazarus sitting in a chair twiddling his thumbs, rocking to and fro babbling in Latin, but there was no sign of his partner.

"Where is Napoleon? And the children?" He demanded, shaking Lazarus' shoulders.

"_Memento mori." _He answered with a warning in latin that Illys hoped was not prophetic."_Remember, you will die."_ He had no time to worry about it as he cursed out loud in Russian. "Chyort voz'mi!" He ran his hands through his hair the pulled out his communicator and calling Security. "

This is Mr. Kuryakin. Security alert, full lock down. No one leaves the building. Locate Mr. Solo, and if there is a pair of children with him...keep your distance do not approach. They are very dangerous."

Illya suddenly remembered Napoleon's words from when this all started days ago, "_I'd like to take them up right away to meet the Old Man."_

"Der'mo_shit!" He took off back down the stairs as the klaxon shrieked, the overhead lights flashing rhythmically along the corridors as he headed straight to Waverly's conference room.

When he arrived, a Security team was waiting outside the closed door, as was Lisa Rogers who was looking quite flustered.

"It was so bizarre Illya," she said," Napoleon walked into the room dressed in a hospital gown with two children along side him. He had a gun in his hand and shoved me out the door and then locked it behind them. I couldn't draw my weapon...it, it was as if something was stopping me. Illya I don't understand what came over me?" Lisa felt devastated at her inability to perform what she had been trained to do, even if it had meant using her weapon against Napoleon.

Illya punched in his emergency override code in the keypad outside Waverly's office door.

"Stay here, do not come in yet." he ordered." If I cannot stop them, then you will have to, and you must not hesitate. Understood? No matter what."

"Yes sir," the team members intoned. But Lisa looked at him with concern. "No matter what." He repeated to her.

Illya hit the last number in the sequence and the doors opened instantly.

He stepped in with his Walther drawn, concerned that he might be too late.

Napoleon Solo stood across the room, one hand clutched in Grete's hand, and Grete holding onto Gunner's. In Solo's other hand was his UNCLE Special and it was aimed directly at Alexander Waverly.

Before he could say a word, Illya felt a stabbing pain in his head, so severe that he dropped to his knees, grabbing his head.

"Napoleon,"Illya groaned, "do not do it...fight it!" Another dagger drove itself into his skull, making him scream out in agony. "_Napoleon_" he whispered before he collapsed to the floor. He fought to raise his gun pointing it not at Solo, but at the children. Only the agony he was feeling kept him from pulling the trigger.

Napoleon stood there, his gun hand beginning to tremble as he continued to aim it at Waverly, obviously fighting against the command he was being given. "Noooo," he moaned, "I can't do this. Ver venlig ikke at gøre mig gøre vette_please don't make me do this?" He said in Danish.

The children's commands invaded his mind like the rush of a wave, drowning his spirit and driving it under the power of their wills. "Du skal dræb Alexander Waverly of derefter dræb dig selv_you must kill Alexander Waverly, then kill yourself. _Kill_ him! Do it now!"

"Stop! Lade ham være_stop! Leave him be!" Illya called to them in their language.

"Napoleon, stop!" Illya weakly pleaded with him one last time, then let out an even more horrific scream as he writhed in pain, holding his head with both hands now and dropping his Walther to the floor.

That one moment, hearing the agony in his friends voice made Solo turn from his target, instead aiming the pistol at the children. "Stop såre hem_stop hurting him," he struggled to say the words.

That was the distraction that Alexander Waverly needed, giving him a spilt second to draw his own U.N.C.L.E. special from his shoulder holster, getting off two shots and taking down the children with tranquilizer darts. Security charged at Solo, aiming their weapons at him.

"I don't think that will be necessary gentlemen, " Waverly said calmly. Those children were the true threat, not Mr. Solo. You valiantly fought off their efforts to control you young man, well done." He said, taking the weapon from Napoleon's hand, and placing a fatherly hand on his shoulder, steadying his agent as he regained his focus.

Napoleon shook as he helped Illya to his feet. "I'm not so sure about that sir. If Mr. Kuryakin's distress hadn't distracted me, I just might have pulled that trigger."

"But you didn't Mr. Solo, and that's all that matters. And you were distrait long enough for me to get off those shots."

"Are you alright tovarisch?" Napoleon asked as he helped his partner settle into a chair.

"Other than the fact that my head feels like it has been spilt open with a huntsman's axe, I am fine. Are you?"

"Okay for the moment. But I have a feeling you and I should get up to medical. Security can handle it from here."

.

The two agents spent the night sequestered together in a room under observations for any after affects from the children's influence. And the next morning being symptom free, Solo and Kuryakin were released and now sat at Waverly's conference table none the worse for wear.

"You'll be pleased to know gentlemen that Grete and Gunner Pederson will be fine and are going to be reunited with their family. The Danish government will be relocating them under assumed names so Thrush will not be able to get their hands on them again."

The two agents found that statement rather surprising, even for the Old Man.

"But their psychic abilities sir? Aren't they just too dangerous to be let out together in the real world?" Napoleon asked.

"Though their natural abilities were apparently genuine, they were not sufficient enough to be as strong as they seemed and Dr. Lazarus discovered that their powers were indeed technologically enhanced."

"Thrush had implanted some sort of linked microchips into there cerebrums to stimulate the areas that are involved with their genuine psychic abilities, enhancing them to quite a dangerous level. When the children were in physical contact with each other, the chips quadrupled their psychic tendencies. Medical has since removed the devices and sent them to Research and Development for further study. Ingenious plan, this one, ingenious," the Old Man pondered, while puffing heavily on his pipe.

The noxious smoke curled up and above his head as he continued to speak.

"As we had suspected the children were indeed conditioned and under the control of one of Thrush's confounded drugs, as were you Mr. Solo, luckily Mr. Kuryakin has built up a sort of tolerance to some of their concoctions, as Dr. Lazarus looked over your blood work after you showed him what you suspected to be an injection site on your arm. That's why the children were not able to gain control over you, the drug that was supposed to make you pliant enough to be controlled simply did not work, and they were simply able to cause you pain and nothing more."

"A rather excruciating pain I might add." Illya said with a somber demeanor.

"When were you injected?"Napoleon asked.

"When you brought the children to our hotel room, they were apparently trying to bring me under their control while I was asleep, and injected me then...I was reliving a childhood nightmare about the Baba Yaga and in my dreams and I perceived I was scratched on my arm by her claw, which in reality was me being injected with their drug.

"Baba Yaga?"

"Yes, I am surmising that they probed my mind for a frightening childhood memory, being children they would be drawn to such a thing. The Baba Yaga is a character from a fairy tale and is gruesome Russian witch used to frighten children. We were told that the Baba Yaga would eat us if we were bad."

Napoleon cringed. "Sounds horrible."

"No more than other so called fairy tales, such as Red Riding Hood, or Hansel and Gretel...or the Bogeyman for that matter." Illya answered.

"And how are the children doing sir, " Napoleon asked, changing the subject.

"Drs. Lazarus and Lechtanski have assured me that the children are fully recovered from the implants and the Thrush conditioning has been circumvented. Their parents will be arriving this evening to take custody of them, along with a contingency of security from the Danish Defense Intelligence Service."

"Sir might we see them before they leave?" Solo asked.

"I don't see why not, there's no danger at this point. However, before you do that, I have one last thing I'd like to add to this discussion, as it were. I understand that you got yourself into this mess because of Angelique La Chien...Mr. Solo please see to it in the future that your dealings with her are kept to a minimum and while on assignment if that is at all possible. Is that understood?"

"Yes sir." Napoleon lowered his head, having been duly chastised, not seeing his partner grinning from ear to ear as he stood behind him.

"And you Mr. Kuryakin, again well done trusting your instincts on this one, but no reason to gloat over Mr. Solos reprimand."

It was the Russian's turn to lower his head having now been duly chastised himself."

"Now dismissed gentlemen."

Together the two agents made their way up to medical where the children were still confined.

They were permitted back together after their surgery to remove the chips and now wore small bandages on their heads.

"Vi beklager vi problemer vi fik dig_we are sorry for the trouble we caused you."Gunner said as he lay under the covers in his bed.

"Og smerten_and the pain," Grete added as she flopped on the bed beside her brother as she lookeddirectly at Illya.

"Dek var ikke vin skyld_ it's not your fault," Napoleon gently spoke to them. "Tell me do you know the name of the Doctor who did this to you?"

"Yes, it was a Dr. Schiller, Johan Schiller. He took us from our parents, telling them our gifts needed to be studied. They paid our parents money and told them we would be safe and in good hands, and we would learn from the best teachers at University."

"Napoleon, there is a Dr. Johan Schiller at the University of Copenhagen. His area of study is the human brain." Illya said.

"Sounds like he just might be our man."Napoleon smiled.

.

They boarded a flight the next day, returning to Copenhagen and heading directly to the University. The scene outside the science building, the H.C. Ørsted Institute was not one they would have expected see, finding several police vehicles parked there with their flashing lights and radios blaring, and a Coroners van that had just pulled up just before them.

Their identification allowed them access to the third floor where the heavily charred body of Johan Schiller lay on his scorched laboratory floor. They were told there had been a fire that morning and Schiller had been killed in a freak accident. Something about Bunsen burners exploding in his lab and they watched the gruesome sight as the body was wrapped to be taken away.

They waited a suitable amount of time, then verified that it was indeed Schiller with the local constabulary and Coroner's office.

"We are at a dead end now my friend, no pun intended." Illya said.

"I know but my gut tells me that Dr. Schiller didn't die by accident." Napoleon answered.

"I agree, his body was burned too severely to have been a Bunsen burner accident...by the way are you hungry, because I am famished.?"

He looked at his partner wondering how he could have made that leap from the image of the charred body to wanting food.

"I suppose? " he shrugged after banishing the image from his head. "Where do you want to go?"

There was nothing else they could do now, and both being a little jet-lagged, they took the ten minute walk to the same bistro in the Tivoli gardens where they had lunch together on that fateful day only a week ago when Napoleon had spotted Angelique.

They ordered a quick meal of open sandwiches, with coffee this time to keep them awake and just as the food arrived, so did a certain platinum blond.

"That does it," Illya growled, "I have lost my appetite," he said as he glared at her.

"Screw you Kuryakin. I am so tired of your insults."

"And I am so tired of you trying to kill us." he snapped at her.

"Uspokoites_take it easy," Napoleon said sotto vocce in Russian." Illya why don't you excuse us for a minute?"

"Napoleon, you do remember what Waverly said to you." Illya said flatly, giving his partner a warning as he rose from the table.

Napoleon waved him off, "I'll be fine, I promise."

Angelique was dressed in a flattering blue chenille dress, looking even more attractive than usual as she sat at the table, taking the Russian's chair. She pulled out a cigarette from her silver case, then waited for Napoleon to light it as she held it between her fingers. He didn't oblige her.

"No, not this time." he snarled at her in a low voice. "You went too far ... manipulating children to do you dirty work."

"Me darling, I did nothing to those _sweet_ children? Schiller was the one who did it, I simply took advantage of his work. Which was obviously sub-standard and made me look bad, so I took care of the good Doctor." she smiled wickedly.

She lay her hand on Napoleon's, looking into his eyes soulfully. He pulled it away from her, partly concerned she would try to slip him another one of her concoctions.

"No hard feelings darling, it's all part of the game, you know that? Now why don't we go somewhere more quiet and let me make it up to you. No nasty business this time I promise, just pleasure." She purred seductively, moistening her painted lips and batting her eyelashes at him, turning on her charms.

Napoleon crinkled his nose in disgust. "Too soon my dear, I'm not quite over you trying to have my boss and I killed, not to mention the pain my partner was put through, or how you used those kids."

"Oh alright darling, if you insist," she pouted." Shame that dirty little Russian wasn't susceptible to the children's powers...but then a closed-minded little man like him wouldn't be, now that I think about it? Another time then Napoleon dearest. A bientot."

"Don't count on it." He mumbled, watching as she rose gracefully, walking off and blending in with the passersby who strolled innocently along in the Tivoli, not having a clue as to how dangerous a woman she was.

Illya walked back to the table, looking just a little too cheerful.

"Glad to see you have learned your lesson..._once burned, twice shy, _proving the point that you _can teach an old dog new tricks."_

"And where did you get those?" Solo smiled." I honestly didn't think you were capable of getting American idioms?"

Illya looked somewhat indignant then paused before he spoke, quoting Joseph Conrad. "The mind of man is capable of anything ~ because everything is in it, all the past as well as the future."

After their recent experiences of the _mind_ Napoleon understood what his partner was saying had a double meaning...

Finis


End file.
